Those Girls

“For such a small girl you sure eat a lot.”


Patrick was teaching all of us boxing and self-defense moves. He said there were lots of programs we could take when we were a little older so we could be certified fitness instructors. He’d already signed Dani up for one.

He told people we were his cousin’s kids. Both our parents had died in a car accident and he’d taken us on until we were old enough to go out on our own.

He brought up the subject of school. “There’s one around the block, but it might get tricky if they need to see any paperwork proving I’m your guardian.”

“I don’t care about school,” Courtney said. “I was failing anyway.”

“What about you two?” he said to Dani and me.

“I’ll get my GED,” Dani said.

“Me too,” I said, feeling like I was going to cry. I blinked hard.

Dani looked at me. “But you’re so good at school. You loved it.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “When I’m older, maybe I’ll go to college or university. I can take night classes.”

Patrick was nodding. “Don’t give up on your dreams, girls. You just might have to find another way to get there.”

When I wasn’t at the gym during the day, I checked Dumpsters for cans and bottles that we could return for money, searched in the gutters and on the sides of the road, but I was nervous going down the alleys and always made sure I was home before dark. Sometimes I folded laundry for tips at the Laundromat. Dani was working hard, coming home sweaty from the gym and the restaurant where she was waitressing, taking on extra shifts when she could, bringing home leftovers she’d snuck into her bag. Courtney was working at a sketchy restaurant and started hanging out with one of the owner’s sons. She was getting too skinny, her face breaking out, and she’d take off for big chunks of time, sometimes not coming back to the apartment until the early-morning hours. When we got up she’d stumble out of bed, throw crumpled bills on the table, pull on clothes, and go to the gym.

Dani and I talked about it one night.

“It’s drugs. I’m sure of it,” I said. “She’s doing them and selling them.”

“We’ll talk to her when she gets home.”

We tried, but she brushed it off. “I’m fine, it’s all fine.”

“Where’s the money from?” Dani said.

“I’ve made some new friends, don’t worry about it.”

Dani followed her into the bathroom. “It’s not fine—we don’t want this money.” She threw it on the floor.

Courtney whirled around. “Now you care about being legal?”

“We can’t get in more trouble,” Dani said.

“Please, Courtney,” I said. “If the cops catch you and they figure out who you are, we’re all in trouble.”

“Fine, whatever,” she said.

*

She stopped bringing money home after that, just small bills from tips, but she’d still take off for hours, occasionally not coming home at all. I couldn’t rest until I finally heard the door unlocking, Courtney’s purse being tossed onto the floor, the creak of her bedsprings. Sometimes she’d climb in with me, her back warm against mine, our breaths matching until we drifted off.

Other times she’d be okay for a few days, hanging around the house more, or at the gym, seeming focused, present. Then she’d get an angry edge to her, snapping about silly things, or she’d just be quiet, hardly saying anything, huddled on her bed for hours, drinking beer after beer, staring at the wall.

Dani gave her shit one day, accused her of spending all our money on beer.

“You’re turning into a screwup.”

“Someone gave me the beer,” Courtney said. “And I was already a screwup.” She gave a bitter smile, held the beer high in the air. “Bottoms up.”

*

Soon Courtney started missing shifts at the gym. Dani flipped out, said Patrick and Karen would kick us all out, but Courtney just blew her off.

“They’re not going to kick you guys out.”

“If you’re not going to show up, you should just quit.”

“Fine.”

After that she only worked at the restaurant. We’d been worried that Patrick and Karen would be upset, but they seemed to understand. They’d ask how she was doing, and she was welcome for dinner anytime. Karen would watch her with that thoughtful, troubled expression and push more food onto her plate, which Courtney barely touched. But then I had something bigger to worry about.

Three months after we’d escaped Cash Creek, I realized I might be pregnant.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I hadn’t thought about it when I didn’t get my period the first couple months. I’d never been regular—I’d missed months before—and had had some spotting, so I’d thought everything was fine. But when it didn’t come the next month, I started to get worried. I waited and waited, woke up every morning certain it would be the day. I didn’t say anything to my sisters for another couple of weeks, still hoping my period would come.

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